


The Night of 1855

by TheFourteenthProdigy (26PrOdiGy)



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Halloween Spirited, London, M/M, One Shot, Thriller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 01:27:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2330219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/26PrOdiGy/pseuds/TheFourteenthProdigy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A darkness clouds the cobbled streets of London, as a killer relieves the last few minutes of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night of 1855

**Author's Note:**

> Thought it be sweet to start off the Halloween spirit with a short thriller that came to me in several dreams (its in the middle of September, I know.) Hope you enjoy.

 

What terrifies us to the core? A beast with four eyes glistened in crimson and eight arms, each of them ending in claws sharper than the finest of swords, with mouths aligned with sharp and drooling fangs that can pierce through metal? Perhaps a creature crafted from Hell, with the smell of death heavy around its shaggy black coat? For those without imagination, the presence of a serial killer who's out for blood, and isn't hesitant in slaughtering a few victims. Or maybe even a natural disaster threatening to tear the world apart. 

What about a night so black and so cold, the breath that emits from your mouth is visible even through the impenetrable darkness. No winds blew, creating a stale and stagnant atmosphere that would send shivers coursing down your spine and goosebumps to pop along your flesh. And a silence so deafening, you could hear the pulse of your heart inside of your body, constantly ramming into your rib-cage and filling you with fear.

Would that terrify you?  

Within this night lay a single crow, its feathers glistening a charcoal that matched the sky. It would have remained invisible had it not been for the constant cover of the moon, which cast its silvery glow upon the bird that was perched against the metal railing of a decrepit building. This crow, whose eyes were black and constantly moving, was the only living creature present within the night. The decrepit building in which it lay perched on was a part of a long-abandoned block of antique shops and small grocery stores. The streets, cobblestone and rough to the wheels of vehicles, were drenched in darkness, with the silvery rays coating a shine upon them.

These cobblestone streets, empty as they were, were not particularly _alone--_ a liquid thicker than water yet lighter than tar ran in between the grooves. It gave off a metallic scent that wafted into the holes present upon the crow's beak, who's curiosity soon sparked. The crow, completely entranced by the metallic scent, hopped off the rail and gracefully landed onto the rough, dark cobble stones, and began ambling down the street of blackened stilts. It moved with the grace of a ballerina dancer, following the smell of the liquid whilst traveling up from it. As it traveled, the metallic scent got stronger and stronger, and with its intensity came the wider of the flows.

It wasn't long before the metallic liquid dripped onto the thin toes of the crow, and the black bird instantly took flight. Having become entranced by the smell of the liquid, the crow hadn't realized how thick the rivulets were actually becoming. A few more steps and the crow would soon be on the source emitting the smell, but it paused to examine the liquid that coursed in between the large and uneven stones. 

With the moon's help, the crow was able to clearly see what ran down the street. The liquid reflected a dark red tint, barely visible to the human eye. With the added metallic smell, the black bird had put two and two together--crows, as well as their cousins the raven, were some of the most intelligent creatures to ever walk the Earth. It was blood that coursed in between these rocks, and with the presence of blood meant that a body was nearby.

And a body meant food. 

With renewed interest the crow continued its graceful walk to the source of the blood, its movements now jittery and excited. It hopped from blood flow to blood flow, avoiding the rivulets to the best of its ability. Fifteen more steps in and the crow halted. The approximate number of steps it would take to reach the body was twenty five, but something was suddenly off in the air. A presence other than the crow could be felt, and it was coming from before it. The deafening silence that swathed the old block was still there, except for a tiny sound. Faint, most definitely, but  _there._

It was the sound of breathing. Shallow, light, similar to a person coming back from a good morning run. The crow, not only being intelligent but also curious, crept closer to the body to inspect this new breathing intruder, its steps cautious and unsure. The crow hadn't made it a mere five steps before a sound so loud and deafening split the silent atmosphere. 

_Cough-hack!_

The crow took flight, its direction for the closest building rail. As it reached its destination and folded in its black wings, the crow glanced back down on the cobbled street to see what had interrupted and most definitely disturb its feast. Fortunately for the black creature, the silvery glows casting off the moon was enough light to see who this thing--person or animal--was. Its beady eyes honed in on the spot where it stopped and took flight, then traveled up to where a predominantly lit up area glowed. 

The scene that lay before the black bird mesmerized it and instantly filled the blackened feathers with itching curiosity. Crumpled upon the cobbled ground was a body who's identity was masked, saved for the sprout of black hair that fell behind it in a small river, hiding its true identity. The attire was mattered and possibly torn from the crow's view. As it continued to drink in the body, another feature filled its tiny body; a large hole was visible, resting right on the hip. There was another hole that was located on the side of the rib cage, which profusely leaked crimson and stained the mattered top with blood. The larger hole looked to have stopped bleeding, as no liquid oozed from in between the clothing material, but the stain that covered it was full of dark crimson and produced the metallic smell, as well as stench of decay. 

Before the body of the victim was a man of an extremely tall height. His eyes were narrowed into thin red slits that seemed to ooze with malice, wickedness, and even more; grimness. Brandished before him in his trembling left hand was a silver Glock 9MM, blood adorning the tip and barrel. The weapon was pointed at the head of the victim, who didn't flinch or speak; the deed had already been done by the time the crow caught wind of it. The man with the red eyes, through a grim smile, shoved the silver glock back into the lining of his tattered grey pants. He chortled, feeling the cold handle pressed up against his convulsing abdomen.  _"In the end I won, friend."_

He spoke to the body as if it could hear him. The red-eyed man had started to turn on the heels of his shoes, but a pain so sharp and sudden caused him to stumble and nearly topple over. The crow, having heard this hushed statement in the dead of silence, watched with more peculiar interest. It noticed the man slowly take his left hand that held the gun a few moments ago clutch the right side of his body. A sharp hiss could be heard eliciting from the man before it was masked by a breathy chuckle.  _"And you still took the last laugh, you bastard..."_

The crow didn't know what the man meant by this. It hadn't even had the time to thoroughly check out the man, who had now ambled his way down the rickety, uneven street, leaving the body alone. The omnious silence from before had returned, and the crow once again hopped off its railing and hopped its way towards the crumpled body. Something the crow did notice, on the other hand, was the way he cradled his right side. And, as the crow reeled through its intelligent and small brain, it remembered the ear-splitting cough that destroyed the silence of the street. Somehow the man got hurt. By this body, who was once alive and fought the man until his last breath? 

The crow didn't want to waste another minute of thinking and wondering. With precision it dived into the face of the body and began peeling away skin to reach the tendons underneath. Blood leaked from these lacerations upon the face and painted the black beak that drove deeper and deeper into the skin, all the way until it reached the flesh. The crow reeled back to remove a long, thin strip of red flesh and swallowed whole, then went back in for more. It did this for several minutes, peeling away ribbon after ribbon of red flesh, and soon parts of the lip. It worked its way up the nasal cavity, having completely picked off the teeth and destroying the interior of the mouth, and finally it reached the eyes; two light pecks and the crow was tearing into them both, completely demolishing the watery organ. 

_Click._

_Clack._

_Click._

_Clack._

These intruding sounds grew louder and louder, filling the unseen ears of the black bird. Taking a piece of flesh to go, the crow lifted up to the sky for what was the second time and landed on a railing, where it munched upon the flesh and watched, waiting for the second intruder to show itself. It wasn't the man in the red eyes, the crow knew that for sure; he had traveled up from the body, going north. This person, whoever he or she was, came south. Their steps were confident and sure, even in the dead of night, and their breathing was labored--not shallow like the man. With the red ribbon of flesh disappearing down the crow's throat, it watched as someone came from the shadows and stepped into the moonlight. 

It wasn't a reporter. It wasn't a cop. It wasn't a detective, either. The visitor was a man of average height, clearly shorter than the man with the red eyes. He wore a black fur coat that ended at his knees and underneath that was a clean white dress shirt and matching colored frock. His bottoms were a pair of crisp and freshly ironed black slacks, with matching dress shoes that shined underneath the moon's silvery touch. The visitor looked as if he just left a press conference, or was walking home from a late night church session. Wherever he came from, it was sure odd he was walking down this eerie old block, where a murder scene was taken place not too long ago. 

The crow's eyes remained fixed on the visitor as he knelt by the body of the victim. Did he know this person? The question was answered almost as quickly as it was asked; the visitor, his expression unreadable, quickly stood up and stepped over the body. The crow, being an inquisitive creature, stared down upon the visitor as he turned back around to face the victim. It was obvious to the bird that he didn't know the body, but why did he still remain? Perhaps he knew of someone else that would know the body? Or maybe, just like itself, was curious and was trying to piece together what had happened. As the crow continued its watch, the visitor turned on his heels and headed away from the body. The crow would have immediately hopped back down to enjoying its late night dinner, but something perked its curiosity. The visitor didn't head south of where he came from. Instead, he was heading north. 

Right in the direction the man with the red eyes was walking. 

 

* * *

 

 

The old block wasn't the only site within the eclipse of the night. A mere five blocks down from the old plaza, where the murder scene lay, was a long stretch of road slightly evener than the cobbled stoned street. A line of buildings went up this road, most boarded up with blown-out windows and doors rocking off hinges. A cool breeze blew through here, which seemed to bypass the old plaza tenfold. This breeze carried dead leaves that would crunch under the foot of a person's shoe, as well as old newspapers and pieces of trash, down the cracked sidewalk and underneath the only working streetlamp present in the dead of night. This streetlamp, just like the buildings, was decrepit--dust covered the light, with the electricity going in and out constantly. It had cast an ominous glow upon the sidewalk, and the slumped body of a straggler who clutched his side in pain. 

This straggler was the man that was present at the murder scene. With the newly added light, though dim and near faded, his attire could be seen without much scrutiny. He wore tattered grey pants that was ripped at the hems and covered in a liquid darker than blood and water. It was similar to grease, its origins unknown. His top was a dirty white shirt torn down the center, which revealed a glistening chest dripped in cold sweat. Above his shoulders was what appeared to be a brownish grey shawl haphazardly thrown across his shoulders to keep him warm; it didn't work. Fortunately for the man it was in the middle of September, and a fortunate warm-front passed through, bringing with it room temperature air. 

Red hair that fell in thick, unkempt locks fell over the man's matching red eyes. The malice and wickedness that was once present was now gone, leaving behind a shower of grimness and despair. Out of the corners of his red-tinted lips came thick crimson liquid, which steadily leaked the more he coughed and moved. His hand, now cold and shaking, was pressed up against his right side, where more of the warm red liquid pressed up against his skin and ran down his fingers.

The man was dying. There were no other words to describe what he felt; the cold hand of Death that steadily crept closer to him, ready to sink its black claws into his shoulders and drag him to the gates of his penitentiary. A tight, wry smile floated on his lips at the thought.  _How fitting,_ he spoke to himself,  _to die like this. A shot to the right hip, puncturing the kidney. That lucky bastard was able to get me after all._ The glock that lay pressed up against his abdomen, which grew tighter and tighter with each breath, was uncomfortable in the waist of his pants. The red-haired man reached for the gun and began pulling it out, slowly to not disturb the wound that was already tender and oh so raw.

It would be fitting to shoot yourself dead, wouldn't it? There wasn't a beacon of hope coming for him, especially with the treason he's committed for the last ten years. As the man readied the gun, sticking the silver tip into his slightly parted jaws, memories of the past suddenly flooded his mind.  _It is true.. Your life really do flash before your eyes when you're about to die._ The man saw him as a young kid, running around the broad streets of London, a smirk present on his lips. They were painted red like they were now; they were bare, and held a genuine smirk. Not one backed by evil. He wasn't alone, either--another child was with him, a boy with blond, curly hair that covered his eyes. 

The imagery then shifted to when the man looked to be in his early teen years. He, as well as the curly blond boy, were standing in front of a garbage disposal, wicked smiles pressed on their lips. A softer smile formed on the man's lips as he remembered this day fondly. He and the blond boy were going to mess around with the old man that lived within the garbage disposal and steal a few things from him.  _"You ready for this?"_

_"Hell yeah! Are you ready?"_

_"Hell yeah! Let's go!"_

Their energetic shouts, joyous laughter, and rampant running soon ended--it all ended. 

_POW! POW!_

_Thud._

In the man's vision, the boy with the curly blond hair fell to the ground after being shot twice--in the hip and then the rib cage. That old bastard had killed him, and wasn't hesitant about it; he was then pointing the gun at the red haired man, who was a boy at the time. Frozen with fear, he was unable to do anything--he couldn't pick up a weapon and try to avenge his fallen friend, nor could he force his legs to move and run away like a coward. And when it seemed like it was the end for that boy with insanely red hair shaped like flames, something within him snapped. 

It wasn't a voice that made the boy pick up a dangerously sharp rock and run headfirst to the old man. It wasn't a command that told the boy to drive it deep into the old man's heart. It wasn't an order that he was given to then take the gun used to kill his friend and shoot him several times in the chest, though he ended up blowing his insides out. It was pure will, instinct; adrenaline. And vengeance for the bastard that killed his best, and only friend. 

After that, the boy grew up with nothing but hatred for all kind in his heart. With  _Carpe Diem_ written to his existence, the red haired boy grew up into a teenager, and soon a man, hellbent on ending everyone's life the way his friend had died. Shot in the hip, and then in the rib cage; some even having their insides blown out just like the old man had. These memories of killings ravaged through the man's mind, filled with blood, screams, yellow police tape and sirens going off at night when he killed someone. 

And even through all of this, during the massacre of humans, one stood out. A man of relatively tall height, with looks that would make any woman jealous. 

The red haired man immediately forced these thoughts about the man away. A grim smile fluttered on his lips as he pushed the tip of the gun in further.  _I didn't deserve to have him in the first place. This is the only fitting way to go,_ his mind reminded him. True as it was, he didn't deserve to have the man briefly seen within his train of memories. He was lucky to have even met said man. The grim smile was backed up by a chortled sound, which was muffled by the entrance of the gun.  _He'll be glad that I'm gone._

_This is now goodbye._

An index finger gently crept onto the trigger and lightly pushed down. 

_POW!_

Not minutes after he pulled the trigger, faint chuckling could be heard beside him. "You still haven't changed, have you, Eustass-ya?" 

The red haired man, known as Eustass Kid, narrowed his eyes in mock disgust. The gun that was once pressed up against his mouth was now pointing towards his left, where a thin line of smoke wafted from the tip. "I see you still like creeping up on me. Haven't you learned your lesson yet?" 

"It appears I have not... Your aim is still as good as it has been two months ago. It's amazing how you can even see with such poor lighting." 

Eustass snickered at the praise. His snicker was soon stifled into a pain, muffled grunt, where he clutched his bleeding side once more. Footsteps slowly approached him until a body could be outlined by the blinking light above him. It was another man, tall for someone around the age of mid-twenties, yet still shorter than Eustass himself. He sported messy cropped hair that was black under the cover of darkness, and light yellow eyes that burned with the intensity of a cat on the hunt. Two golden dots on each ear could be seen, where Eustass casually grinned to himself despite the excruciating pain in his right side. The man continued his way towards him until he was standing directly above the other, focusing these fiercely yellow eyes onto his pale and convulsing body. "Look at you. You're a mess." 

"Shut up; you try living on the streets for a living, Mr. Fancy." 

"That's  _Dr._ Fancy to you, my friend." 

Eustass snickered again and flinched. Slight concern danced across the features of the other man to where he knelt down and inspected the face of the other. "You're hurt again, aren't you?" Eustass brushed him off with a dismissive shrug. "It's nothing--I've suffered worse." 

"You're pale, and you're clutching your side. I can see it on your face that you've lost a lot of blood." 

"Well then, now that you're diagnosis is done with, what is your prescription,  _Dr._ Fancy?" 

The black haired man smirked. "Perhaps some painkillers to ease the pain, but I have a feeling you're not up to pay on your mountain of debts, are you?" 

Eustass snorted and rolled his eyes. "Something cheaper; maybe something that won't cost a dime." 

At this, the man pressed his lips against the other. Eustass instantly melted into the warmer, softer flesh, molding his lips against the other pair. This was something that he was going to miss when he was gone, so he poured all he had in him into the kiss; his tongue began to probe at the entrance of the mouth, begging for more. The man on the other side smiled into the affection and allowed little entrance, teasing the red haired man. However, this little parting was all Eustass need to slip his entire tongue into the mouth of his lover, where he tasted every inch of the other man's mouth and soon danced with his tongue. 

The doctor, who was thoroughly enjoying the kiss, could tell something was a bit off by this. Still, he didn't give way until the redhead was through; a swift nip to the bottom lip and the man pulled away, a blown-away smile present on his red-tinted lips.  _"God, I'm going to miss this..."_

"You speak as if you're going to die." 

"Jesus Trafalgar, you really are an intelligent fool aren't you?" Trafalgar Law, the name of the doctor and Eustass Kid's lover, gave the redhead a hard glare. He would have struck the man, but any touch upon his body would surely quicken the end of his life. Trafalgar merely shrugged his shoulders and fell beside Eustass, leaning onto his shoulders lightly. The other man, with his good arm and what little strength he had, hoisted the doctor onto his lap so that he could see the man's face, despite the dim lighting. Thankfully Trafalgar's body was just light enough to do it, for Eustass's strength was sapping quickly. "I was comfortable sitting beside you, you know. Now I'm going to have your blood all over me, and I just had these dry-cleaned."

"Shut it. I felt like holding you, alright?" 

In truth, Eustass wanted this moment to last forever. He didn't want to leave, especially with having Trafalgar like this in his arms. Trafalgar, though he would never admit it aloud, wanted this moment to go on forever, though he knew about the redhead's impeding end. Without saying another word he rested the side of his forehead against the other's cold, sweating skin and gazed down the vacant dark street. To any passerby that decided to take a late evening stroll, it would like a romantic time alone, with the view of blood slowly dripping down the redhead's side unseen. 

For a long time no one spoke. Then finally, Eustass whispered against Trafalgar's skin.  _"I love you."_ Trafalgar rolled his eyes and desperately fought to keep his voice from hitching. "Be quiet and save your energy for the morning. I'll have you fixed by then." 

"You know good and well as I do that I can't be fixed. I'm as good as dead out here."

"If you shut up talking I can save you--" 

Irresistibly cold lips pressed up against Trafalgar's cheek, shushing him completely. _"It's no use Trafalgar, and you know it. I'm going to die out here."_ The man removed his lips from his cheek, only to press them up against the corners of his mouth. Trafalgar tasted a bit of blood but he ignored it, accepting the farewell kisses that Eustass was giving him. "Do you doubt my abilities as a surgeon to save you..?" 

Eustass said nothing. He just continued showering Trafalgar's mouth with kisses, avoiding lip contact all together. It slightly annoyed the dark haired doctor, but at the same time filled him with romantic love and sorrow. Eustass removed his lips away from the other man's lightly tanned skin and rested his fingers underneath his chin to force him to look into his eyes. What Trafalgar saw as he peered into the pools of light crimson, fading with the life that seeped away, was a love that was unseen before. _"I love you, Trafalgar Law."_

The doctor could barely contain his voice as he heard the man's whisper through his ears. He turned his body on the man's hips so that he straddled him with his legs, then proceeded to grab his cold hands with his, even the bloody one. "Eustass, _please,_ don't leave. You know I can save you, I-I've done it before. Just fight the pain until morning, where I can rush you to my hospital. My car, it's not far..." 

Eustass raised Trafalgar's hands to his lips, where he kissed each finger lightly. On his left ring finger, he held the kiss longer, before looking up into the man's light yellow eyes. They were on the verge of tears, to which he desperately fought back to hold. _"I had a question that I wanted to ask you... seems kinda late now, huh?"_

"D-Don't talk as if its the end, idiot. You might as well tell me, w-what was the question?" Though Trafalgar's voice was breaking, he still held assertiveness in his voice. Eustass smiled, milking in the voice of his lover that was close to tears. _You still try to command and order me around. That's another thing I'm going to miss when I'm gone, just so you know._ Pushing this thought back with a heavy sigh, Eustass stared longingly into the yellow eyes of the man. 

Trafalgar didn't know the question he was expecting, nor did he care. If he was completely honest with himself, he wanted the man to stop talking altogether. If he could just save up a little bit of his strength, he'll be able to save him in the morning. And he would live to see another day. Perhaps even kill a few people. _I don't care what you do, just please stop talking so I can save you! Eustass, you fool, don't you dare leave me here, especially when I have a chance at saving your life..._ But deep down in his gut, he knew this wasn't true. 

For once, he would have to accept the death of another patient.

 _"Trafalgar..."_ Eustass's quiet voice brought the dark haired man out of his sad thoughts. He coughed slightly in an attempt to raise his voice, though it did nothing but spit out more blood. "T-Trafalgar, you know that we've been together for almost two years... E-E-Ever since that day we met, when you caught me red-handed and you didn't even run to the police, I fell in love with you. I wouldn't admit it, out of fear that you would let someone know, but all the things you did... giving me orders, pushing me around, threatening me.. I loved every bit of it.." 

Eustass coughed again, this one shaking his whole body. Trafalgar squeezed his pale hands as if giving him renewed energy. "What I'm basically trying to say without sounding like a romantic idiot is that, you're my one and only. No one can give me such a thrill like you can, and for that I cherish you. Trafalgar, I love you so damn much that it _hurts..._ " 

_"I love you too, Eustass. Now please... stop talking--"_

Eustass raised his finger and pressed up against Trafalgar's lips in an attempt to shush him. "I ain't done yet, Dr. Fancy... I still haven't asked my question.." Even as he smiled and chuckled, the pain was inevitable on his face. Trafalgar felt one of his hands slip from his and slowly enter his shawl, where he began digging around in search of something. It didn't click right away, but as soon as a tiny, dusty black box came into view, Trafalgar's yellow eyes lit up and widen at the exact same time. Eustass continued with his silence as he popped open the tiny box with his thumb.

Inside, resting in a plush white cushion, was probably the most beautiful and exquisite engagement ring Trafalgar had ever seen in his life. The diamond caught the silvery touch of the moon as well as the dim light from above, reflecting its luxurious shine to the world. Trafalgar couldn't contain the emotions that coursed through his body as Eustass slipped the ring onto his finger, before he brought up to his mouth and gave it light, chaste kiss. Locking red eyes with watering yellow ones, the man's red tinted lips formed a soft, love sick smile. _"Trafalgar Law, marry me..."_

The doctor opened his mouth to say something, but what came out was a garbled mixture of incoherent words. He fiercely wiped at his face in an attempt to straighten his expression and deepen his voice, but it only made it worse. Trafalgar smiled through teary eyes and trembling lips, finally having his voice returned after several long seconds of wiping and crying.  _"I-I-Idiot... h-how many times do I-I have to t-t-tell you not to order me a-a-around?"_

Eustass smiled.  _"S-S-So, is that a yes?"_

When Trafalgar nodded, Eustass firmly pressed his lips against the man's. They kissed for what was several hours, drinking in each other's affection to the brim. As they kissed, Eustass's life began to slip to the very last cords, where he could feel the claws of Death grip his shoulders. Trafalgar felt it in the man's already cold lips--they were becoming lifeless and immobile, and his tongue was soon turning cold with death. Still, Trafalgar locked lips with him, unable to draw away in fear that he might end his lover, who was now his fiance's, life. Still, it was Eustass that slightly pulled away, giving enough room to speak his last dying breath.  _"I love you, Trafalgar Law..."_

If happiness is the analogy of sadness, then grief is the analogy of joy, something Trafalgar wasn't feeling as Eustass lay slumped against the metal lamppost. Uncontrollable sobs racked the doctor's body, but he continued kissing his dead lover's lips. Only when the coldness was becoming too much did he push away, and when he did he pressed his head against the chest of the man, where his muffled sobs melted into his cold skin. These sounds of grief could be heard miles across the streets of London, all the way to the redhead's last murder scene, where the crow had left from its feast and was now following the sound of the sobs. 

If there is a sight worse than death, its the death of a loved one. Trafalgar Law, a man known for his stolid bluntness, was now rendered to a helpless child who lost his mother. He remained on the lap of Eustass Kid, un-moving except for the occasional shake of his body. He stayed here for the entirety of the night, not budging an inch; shock made his limbs turn to jelly, and grief held him hostage in the redhead's limp arms.

The crow that witnessed the coolness of the man before, now watching from the lamppost, could only stare. Had it been able to speak, it would have spoken a word of encouragement. But being an animal of lesser, yet intelligent being, it watched with a blankness that would turn any human angry. And still, behind this blankness, lay a compassionate and sad gaze too similar to be left ignored. The crow, with a soft _caw!_ suddenly took flight from the lamppost, flying into the dead of night. In his wake was a single black feather wedged off his skin. 

And wedged in that feather was a tiny red piece of petal from a rose.

 

 -----------------------------------

 

 

A/N: Woops. I lied about the thriller part. xD Still, I hope you liked it. 


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